The Cost of Sacrifice
by sunshine-minx
Summary: Called to Fury's office to discuss her mission, Melinda May finds her ability to complete it called into question. Can she really do what needs to be done, if it comes to that?


"_Do_ you have feelings for him?" She arched an eyebrow at the question, schooled her expression carefully as she considered the answer. It wasn't often that personal inquiries found their way into a meeting with Director Fury, and when she'd been summoned to his office she hadn't expected the discussion to move beyond the parameters for her newest mission. She'd been instructed to choose a team made up of specialists in varying fields, place herself among them and keep to the background until otherwise needed. It was only when presented with the potential endgame that she'd had concerns, and those concerns had led to where she stood now- before Fury's desk with her hands clasped behind her.

And then that damned question that had triggered such a rush of emotion she'd had to remind herself who it was that asked it, and that she needed to restrain the desire to strike. She'd been through more missions with Phil Coulson than any other agents, on countless ops requiring hours of extensive tactical planning. Before Bahrain he had become a trusted ally, someone with whom she'd bonded enough that she could start thinking of him in terms of a friend. _Before_ Bahrain, he had been her partner.

_After..._after, she'd left him on the field alone. Transferred to Administration and refused to talk about it, to ever go back. But he'd persisted, come to find her when she'd needed support, and as she stood in that office and thought about the day when she'd chosen to stop feeling...she realized that one day it had been Coulson who had given her reason to start again.

"With all due respect, Director Fury- I don't consider my feelings regarding Agent Coulson to be a matter that should bear weight on your decision." She kept her posture straight, chose her words carefully. "What you're asking me to do is assemble a team. I've done that. My record _will_ stand, if you're concerned with my ability to follow through with the assignment."

Fury had remained seated throughout their conversation. Now, as he rose and circled the desk, she was reminded as to how larger than life he could seem. Few occasions had placed her in his orbit, with the majority of dealings run through Maria Hill, and it surprised her that she could have forgotten that. Yet something about him just then seemed lost, almost sad, and for a moment he reminded her of any other man. Of someone who had experienced a great loss and never fully recovered.

"Melinda. I don't doubt your abilities- I never have."An emotion she might have categorized as regret flickered over his face, then was gone as he turned away, striding across the room to approach a bar set within the wall. "You and I- we know what this job can do to a person. _We_ understand the kind of sacrifices that need to be made in order to protect the greater good."

"Yes, sir."

"But we also know how much those sacrifices can cost." He began to dole ice cubes into two whiskey glasses, pouring in several fingers of amber liquid and reaching out to offer her one. She wrapped her fingers around it, felt the chill of the ice, and looked up to see him watching her intently. "What I'm asking you has nothing to do with your _ability_- it has _everything _to do with that cost and whether or not you think you're going to be able to pay it if the time comes."

She'd been given all that was needed to make an informed decision before she'd arrived, given files upon files that educated her on the program called T.A.H.I.T.I, and what had been done to Coulson's body. They had also included what had been done to his mind, the one thing she'd always thought she'd loved the most. '_Does he still remember all of the terrible jokes he used to tell me when we were hiding in the desert? When I sang him the chorus of I Dreamed A Dream, all off key, and he swore that because of the fever he was never going to remember it?' _After learning what had been done to him, learning of the potential results of the project, she'd begun to wonder if the man she knew would ever be the same again.

"I don't have feelings for Coulson." She drew in a long sip of whiskey, felt it slip smooth down her throat and settle, a warm ball of heat in the pit of her belly. She'd said the words she wanted him to hear, could still hear them in her mind even as she swallowed another mouthful, and wondered how much she'd have to repeat them before she began to believe it. Lying convincingly under pressure had been a tactic she'd learned a long time ago, but never had she imagined she'd use it to try to fool herself. "I can do what needs to done, Director. If it comes to that."

"Then I think you've got the right team for the job." His hand shook a little, she noticed, as he raised his own glass in salute before downing the contents. "Maybe if we'd had someone like you on the helicarrier for the Battle of New York, things might have turned out differently for Agent Coulson."

She turned, set her now empty glass on the edge of a table, and as she began to leave caught sight of his reflection in the glass pane of the door. The regret she'd seen earlier now made sense, as did the reason he'd assigned her. But what if's hadn't helped her after Bahrain, and they weren't going to make a difference to anything now.

"Or maybe, sir, they would have been the same." She looked back for a moment, pulled the door open and began to step through. "All we can do is try to move on...make the future count."

"Keep him safe, Melinda. S.H.I.E.L.D needs men like Coulson."

"I know." The door closed behind her, and the hallway was blessedly empty. "I'll take care of him...because I need him too."


End file.
